


Her life for his she gave

by Aaymeirah



Series: Tales from the Collegium [3]
Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 08:20:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17525168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaymeirah/pseuds/Aaymeirah
Summary: Journeymen bards Cayden and Rea are on circuit, searching for the perfect inspiration for their masterwork. One extremely rainy day as they go a-hunting for stories, they are forced to take refuge in the house of the old village healer. In the midst of singing for their supper, someone else comes to the Healer's house, a little boy who needs her help.Can heroes be found around us?





	Her life for his she gave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elf (Elfwreck)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfwreck/gifts).



“Vanyel was a hero. Vanyel was brave.” Began Rea.  
“Vanyel went to kill a mage, and found an early grave!” Cayden interrupted her attempt to compose.

Cayden, I’m trying to compose my master work here!”  
“And I’m helping.” She said innocently.  
“You aren’t taking this seriously enough. One more month on this circuit and then we have to go back to Haven to present our masterworks. You haven’t even started yet!”  
“I’m waiting for inspiration.”  
“And you have been for the past six months!”  
“It’s better than writing a song about Vanyel. Honestly, every Bard who barely earned their scarlets wrote a song about him.”  
“He’s a hero.”  
“And dead. Haven’t you ever thought about the songs we sing? They all commemorate dead people.”  
“And what’s wrong with that?”  
“Nothing! It’s just, the big things are remembered, well and good. Sometimes if you’re lucky you get a song about a heroic act you did when you’re still alive.”  
“But?”  
“Who says you have to be dead or saved a Companion or went and killed the King of Haradorn to be a hero?”  
“Nothing.”  
“But that’s all we bards sing about!”  
“Your point is?”  
“Rea, for Haven’s sake, let’s go down to the village and get the people’s stories. Write a song about the local unsung hero. It’s better than composing the ten thousandth song about Vanyel.”  
“Actually, there are 638 songs featuring Vanyel in the Bardic archives.”  
“You counted?”  
“I was bored.”  
“Alright, obsession with dead heroes aside, let’s go down to the village today.”  
“Cayden, dear friend, you seem to have forgotten something amid you’re lengthy philosophical diatribe, it’s pouring rain outside! Tomorrow we can leave the guard outpost and go to the village, but not today.”  
“But I’m feeling inspired today. Today is the day we will find the subject of each of our masterworks! There’s no time to lose, leave your lute here. We have a song to find!”  
Rea looked at her friend warily. “You’re going to do something embarrassing if I don’t go with you aren’t you?”  
“Rea, you wound me, I would never do anything embarrassing.”  
“And that’s because you have absolutely no shame. You’re getting the rain cloaks, if I catch a cold, I’m blaming you!”  
“Blame away. It’ll be worth it.” 

“Let us in please!” Cayden called as she pounded on the door to the well-kept cottage. The rain had lightened up and the two hopeful bards thought that the rainstorm had passed. No such luck. Not 15 feet from the village proper, it began to rain in torrents. Drenching rain. Staggering to the nearest cottage, they pounded on the door, hoping someone would let them in.  
“What do you want?” The door opened a crack and a wizened old lady peered out from within.  
“A place to await this storm to pass.” Cayden answered, faintest thread of bardic gift weaving through her words. She had never truly gotten the whole ethics situation.  
“What are you young ladies doing out in a storm? Come in, come in!” The oldster said abruptly, widening the door so that they could slip in.  
Cayden and Rea stood dripping in the doorway.  
“Well, take off your wet things and come sit down, you’ll catch your death of cold.” They did just that. Comfortably ensconced in some pillows before the sputtering fire, their erstwhile host brought them tea.  
“So, what are you two ladies doing out in this storm?”  
“We were intending to travel through this village, but then the storm came. Thought we could outrun it. No such luck.” Rea envied the way that lies slipped off her friend’s tongue.  
“We’re journeymen bards, searching for inspiration for our masterworks.” Rea explained in the silence.  
“Oh how lovely, will you sing for me? I’m all alone and haven’t heard a good song in ages.” How could they resist the sudden joy that leapt into her old eyes? After a quite conference, Rea pulled out her pennywhistle and Cayden started to warm up her voice.  
They were wrapped up in the music, a lovely duet that Cayden had composed herself. Nothing fancy, but it was the perfect thing to liven up a cold, rainy day. 

“Stop!” the old woman said suddenly. Breaking their semi-trance, the two bards looked at her, startled.  
“Someone’s knocking at the door!”  
“Let me get it.” Rea volunteered, it was the least she could do to repay the old woman’s kindness. A man staggered into the house.  
“Healer, I need you, my Da’s fallen taken sick, started coughing up gouts of blood and he’s turning purple!”  
“Hold on Jeremy. I’m coming.” She struggled to get up.  
“We’ll help you; tell us, what do you need?” Cayden and Rea volunteered at the same time.  
“Thank you girls, my medicine kit is in the kitchen. I may not have the healing gift, but I know the remedies!” The village healer said, pride evident in her determined voice. 

Jeremy’s house was falling apart, not ill kept, but it was evident that not all that many resources were at hand.  
“He’s in here.” It was like the old woman became twenty again. She picked up her pace to see her patient. A distinctive man of middle years was curled up on a pallet, blood trickling out of his mouth. The healer quickly assessed the situation.  
“Your father’s been having stomach pains, yes?” The little boy nodded.  
“All signs point to a burst ulcer in the stomach, all of you, you must do exactly as I tell you if we are to save his life. The boy nodded with the confidence of children, Cayden’s face was pale, but she smiled and Rea felt the familiar mask of calm overtake her. They had work to do.

He was stable, it had been a long and bloody night and a day, and Rea had seen things she could never now un-see, but Jeremey’s father had a chance now. The Healer was collapsed in the only chair in the house. How frail she looked.  
“Will you sing for me before I go?” She asked wearily. The two blood-speckled friends nodded solemnly.

Three days later, a funeral was held for the village healer. Tierra had been the village’s sole healer for close to forty years. A message had been sent back to Haven requesting a new Healer, but for now, all 200 odd souls gathered around a hole in the ground where the body of their beloved healer would be laid to rest.  
“We didn’t know her very long.” Cayden started.  
“But we saw that she was a courageous person, helping people till her last breath.” Rea continued.  
“So we’ve written a song for her.” They said at the same time.

“Tierra was a hero. Tierra was brave.”  
“Tierra went to save a life, her life for his she gave..."


End file.
